


Heartache By the Number Pt. Whatever

by go_south



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Wholesome Friendship, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 18:55:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6765808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/go_south/pseuds/go_south
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bffs courier and cass shootin the shit</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartache By the Number Pt. Whatever

The North-Eastern region of the Mojave had a surprising number of abandoned farmhouses. 

Silas called them brahmin-houses since he had never been around or even seen a barn before and only knew that brahmin use to live in them so he put two and two together much to Cassidy’s annoyance, who insisted they were called barns. The Courier only laughed at her and said that made no fucking sense.

The stars lingered above the desert landscape in the inky black sky, the only source of light coming through the holes in the barn roof from a big fat full moon and a roaring fire from down below. 

Cass sat cross legged across from Silas, thumbing the rim of an empty beer bottle. It was cheap watered down beer, having left a nasty taste in her mouth that was impossible to wash away even after three gecko steaks.

These sort of nights reminded her of things. Reminding her that she had forgotten what the nomadic life on the road truly felt like. No caravan, no mercenaries guarding her, no mooing pack brahmin, no nothing. She stole a look at Silas who looked completely exhausted. The life of a courier, huh? It certainly didn’t look pleasant...but she felt like she could finally breathe, her heart still ached and it hurt to breathe..but she could breathe. Spending weeks drowning away your sorrows over bottles of old whiskey and moonshine at a Mojave outpost numbed your desire for freedom not surprisingly. It made you just roll over and accept things the way they were. There was no desire to fight or even move, but when he came to her with that bright red mohawk and eager go-get-em attitude to help out in anyway, it shook something up inside of her.

She decided to start up a conversation with this man who helped pull her from her own hell, “You keep asking me all these questions about my dad…where I came from...what I did. How about you tell me where you came from, huh? Spice things up a bit so I at least know if I’m not sleeping next to a serial killer or something.”

“Yeah well," Silas gave a start, jerking up from staring down at his own two feet,"Uh..I don’t remember much..or anything at all really after I got shot.” He mumbled and rubbed his bleary eyes before letting them drop to the crackling fire, fingers pointing at the pink dime-sized dent near his temple.

“Hold on,” Cass frowned and leaned forward, squinting at the scar, “You got a bullet put in your head and fuckin’ survived?”

The Courier looked taken aback, no one had ever seemed interested in what happened to him or let alone even asked about the scar.

His hands rubbed together while he glanced around a bit awkwardly, unsure of what exactly to say, “No other way to describe it really…a guy named Benny shot me in the head, I got buried and some robot dug me up. 'S all I remember.” It was kind of hard to hear him since his mouth was covered but Cass still wasn’t sure she heard right. “Ok so now, you were buried ALIVE? And some robot out in the middle of the wasteland just HAPPENED to find you and dig you up and save your life?”

“Well when you put it that way it sounds like a-”

“Lie?”

Silas frowned, actually looking offended, “No way am I lying about this.”

The ex-caravan owner gave a derisive snort, “Yea-huh. Right.”

“Then how else would I have gotten this scar right on my damn head?”

She laughed and leaned back onto her side, tossing the empty bottle back and forth from her hands, “How the hell should I know? Maybe you lost a bet with a raider over who had a bigger mohawk and hit you over the head with a golf club or something.”

Silas crossed his arms and his eyes crinkled in a smile, “Fine you want proof? Next stop we’re making a beeline to Goodsprings and I’m showing you the doctor who saved me AND my grave.”

Another breathy laugh escaped Cassidy and she chucked the bottle into the darkness, “Alright, you got yourself a deal, courier.”


End file.
